


Fire In My Mind

by imaginingstars



Series: Ghost Of Ohio verse [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Frank is a softy but would never admit it, Gift Giving, M/M, Moving In Together, POV Matt Murdock, Pre-Defenders (2017), Referenced Castle Family, graveyards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26841832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginingstars/pseuds/imaginingstars
Summary: Frank and Matt celebrate Christmas together after 4 months of dating. Actually, it’s more like Frank drags Matt away from his work to make it to Midnight Mass, then disappears for a whole day.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock
Series: Ghost Of Ohio verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1940530
Comments: 12
Kudos: 94





	Fire In My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Part two of a series where Matt and Frank start dating prior to the events of the Defenders. Probably works as a stand alone but isn't intended as one.
> 
> Title from Fire In My Mind by Andy Black

Matt had planned to stop working early on Christmas Eve, he really had. Instead, he’s still running his fingers over the Braille in front of him, scowling at the information he’s taking in. How many scumbag landlords can there possibly be in this city? The answer’s clearly too damn many. Frank’s steady presence isn’t going anywhere tonight, his heartbeat acting to keep Matt calm from the fury inside him, the thirst for righteous vengeance. Not that he’d tell Frank that – even though it doesn’t come up so much anymore, his boyfriend (and isn’t that a trip, calling him that when a year ago, Frank had shot him in the head?) still believes that Daredevil should be on the streets. Fortunately for his waning concentration, Frank speaks moments later.

“C’mon, get changed.” 

“Into what?” Matt answers absentmindedly. 

“A suit, dumbass. You’re the one who wanted to go to Midnight Mass.” 

“Shit! What time is it?” 

“11:30. Figured 15 minutes to change and get outta the house, 15 minutes to get there.” 

Matt abandons his paperwork, then heads back to it to sort out the mess he’s left on the desk. Frank waves him off, pulling the pages from his grip. 

“Go. I know your system, I’ll fix it.” 

Matt goes. He pulls a good suit out of the wardrobe and changes, throwing his sweatpants into the laundry basket on the way past. He’s about to start fumbling with the tie when Frank steps close to him and pulls the ends from his grasp. Matt might be used to doing this for himself now, but Frank’s got it down to an art form. The knot’s sitting perfectly within seconds, even if Frank continues to linger in front of him. His fingers are still resting on the knot, and with him so close, Matt’s pulse is speeding up. He shakes off the feeling; if he focuses on it, he’ll be late. 

“You sure I can’t persuade you to come?” 

“I’m sure, Matty. Don’t think I’d be welcome in a church anyhow.” Frank calls him Matty as much as he calls him Red now, if not more; he’s less obviously Daredevil day by day, even if his fingers sometimes itch to hit someone. 

“Father Lantom wouldn’t mind.” It’s not said to persuade, really. It’s more of a statement of fact. Frank’s said he’s not coming, and Matt’s not going to force faith on anyone. 

They leave the apartment with Matt holding Frank’s arm. It’s an all-purpose workaround for them: it’s PDA without being too intimate for outside, it means Matt doesn’t need to use his cane or his senses and can just be the local blind lawyer, and it keeps the attention off Frank. The last point is particularly notable. After all, nobody’s looking for the supposedly-dead Punisher guiding a blind man to church. 

As they reach the doors of the church, Frank clears his throat, surprisingly awkwardly. “You want me to meet you after?” 

“It’ll be a while,” Matt hedges. 

“So that’s a yes,” Frank says with a touch of fond amusement in his voice. He’s always been surprisingly good at seeing through Matt’s bullshit. 

“Yeah,” Matt admits, “As long as that’s okay with you.” 

“Wouldn’t have offered otherwise,” Frank points out, sounding even more entertained. 

“I’ll see you then, then,” Matt says. 

“No, you won’t,” Frank replies. He’s full-on laughing now, and Matt scowls good-naturedly. 

“Oh, we’re doing blind jokes now?” 

“Taste of your own medicine, Matty.” 

The kiss before they part is brief. Matt steps into the church, and he’s pretty sure Frank’s still staring at the heavy doors as they close. 

* * *

When he emerges at the end of the Mass, Frank’s stood there with his hands in his pockets. Matt latches onto his arm immediately. Before they leave, though, Father Lantom calls his name. 

“Matthew!” 

“Father.” He and Frank both turn towards the priest, the latter stiffening slightly as he does so. 

“You haven’t been here so much lately,” the Father says. It’s not accusatory, which is a relief. 

“I’ve been busy,” Matt says, “Less time to drop by at reasonable hours.” 

“So I hear,” Father Lantom acknowledges, “You’ve certainly been popular amongst the less wealthy locals.” 

“Regular Boy Scout,” Frank mutters, quieter than usual. He’s clearly just been unable to hold back his snark, but it catches the priest’s attention. 

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” 

“Father, this is Frank. He’s my boyfriend,” Matt tells him. 

Frank’s heart rate picks up, and Matt remembers that Frank was raised Catholic too. It seems his priest had been much more... _traditional_ in his approaches to gay relationships, if this response is anything to go by. It’s never usually a problem, but this isn’t a situation they usually find themselves in. Fortunately, Father Lantom doesn’t miss a beat. 

“A pleasure to meet you, Frank. I don’t think I saw you in there.” 

“Haven’t been to church in a while now, Father, and tonight doesn’t seem to be the night to start.” 

“Well, should you ever wish to change that, our doors are always open.” 

“Thanks, Father.” 

They bid farewell to the priest and head homewards, and Matt can tell that Frank’s deep in thought as they go. There isn’t much conversation until they’ve arrived back at the apartment and changed ready for bed. They’ve slipped between the silk sheets when Matt speaks up. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“I noticed you tense up when we spoke to Father Lantom.” 

Frank goes silent for a minute. It’s been long enough that Matt’s starting to wonder if he’s said the wrong thing, or even if Frank’s fallen asleep. 

“Never thought I’d be introduced to a priest as a man’s boyfriend, is all,” Frank says eventually. 

“Is that a bad thing?” Matt asks. He’s much more hesitant than he sounds. 

“No,” Frank assures him after a pause to consider, “I don’t think so. Just a bit weird.” 

“Okay,” Matt says, “You want to talk about it?” 

They’ve set up a system now. Neither of them tend to discuss their feelings unprompted, instead giving themselves over to self-flagellation, so if they end up in a situation like this whoever isn’t overthinking offers to talk about it. They’ll press if absolutely necessary, but they try not to. 

“Not tonight,” Frank answers. He doesn’t sound particularly upset, so Matt lets it go. “Night, Matty.” 

“Goodnight, Frank,” Matt replies softly. He falls asleep to the comforting beat of Frank’s heart. 

* * *

When Matt wakes up, Frank isn’t beside him. Further investigation with his hearing shows that he isn’t even in the apartment. There’s a piece of paper with Braille printed on it on the pillow, though, and Matt picks it up and runs his fingers over it. 

_Had to go out for a bit. Nothing bad. Just needed to do something. Sorry._

Matt’s mind runs to horrible places, despite the assurance that nothing negative is happening. Is Frank out as the Punisher on Christmas Day? Is he hurt? He shoves all that aside. He trusts Frank, and if he says it’s nothing bad, he means it. He’s never shied away from admitting exactly what he’s doing, so he’d have said something. Matt sighs, thinking of the box under the bed. It’s a shitty hiding place, but it’s the best he’s got. Frank looks almost anywhere else on a regular basis for one reason or another. He isn’t even sure buying it was a good idea. Does Frank even want a Christmas present? Rolling out of bed, Matt drags himself to the bathroom, splashing water on his face. All he can do is sit and wait for Frank to get back. 

* * *

A few hours later, he’s starting to rethink that assessment. It’s late afternoon, and he hasn’t heard anything from Frank. It’s not the ideal Christmas. He can’t tell if it’s better or worse than last year; these two times are the only ones since he met Foggy that he hasn’t been invited to the Nelsons’ for Christmas. Even though they still care about each other, he and Foggy still don’t quite communicate the way they used to, and it’s the same with Karen. That hasn’t really changed since last year. The only question is whether the aftermath of Karen’s shock at his identity is worse than his boyfriend – the only person he talks to regularly who cares about him – disappearing with barely a word. 

There’s nothing else to make today anything special. There’s no Christmas dinner in the fridge, no decorations – not that they’d do anything for Matt anyway. He had just been looking forward to spending the day on the couch with Frank, but even that isn’t happening. He’s been caught up in thought so deeply that he’s whiled away hours, and he tunes back into the world around him when night’s truly fallen. He can tell because of the sounds of the city, the cheers of people leaving bars and wishing each other a merry Christmas as they part ways. 

Considering his options for a moment, Matt pushes his hearing to its limits in a way that he’s tried not to do since he gave up the mask, listening intently for that voice he knows so well. He bypasses the jollity he hears at the Nelsons’ place, skips over Josie scolding a patron, ignores the drunken revelry in the streets. He can’t hear Frank’s voice, but he does hear his heart. The steady thump is distant, stretching even his senses to their limits. With the reassurance that Frank’s alive, Matt’s about to leave it be when he hears a choked sob. It pushes him into action, and he abandons his willingness to leave Frank be. 

He’s out of the door in minutes, walking the streets with his cane extended. It’s easier than usual, with most people safely tucked away inside for the festivities. There are, of course, still people roaming the streets: people on their way home from a holiday shift they’ve taken for the extra income, people of other faiths, revellers spilling out of parties. Matt makes his way past all of them, finding his way to a cemetery. 

It’s not where he expected to end up, but it’s definitely where he needs to be. Frank’s heartbeat shows that he’s definitely in there. He makes his way slowly through the graveyard, passing rows of headstones. He knows that Frank’s heard him coming; he’s not trying to be light on his feet, and his cane is tapping against the path, which makes him even less discreet. As he comes to a stop beside where his boyfriend is knelt on the ground, he finally realises what he’s doing here. 

He hates himself for not realising it sooner. Frank’s visiting his family. His wife, his kids. It makes sense. After all, it’s Christmas. He’d have spent so many Christmases with them. Jesus, Matt’s a selfish bastard. 

“Hey,” he says quietly. 

“Hey, Red,” Frank answers, voice low. _Red_ , Matt registers distantly. It makes sense; he’s rarely out at night anymore if he hasn’t gone with Frank, so of course force of habit’s caused Frank to return to the old nickname. 

“I heard... I was worried. Do you want me to go?” 

“Stay.” It’s said hoarsely but with feeling, so Matt sinks to the ground beside Frank, paying nothing heed to the inevitable grass stains. 

“Have you eaten today?” Matt asks gently. 

“Nah. Forgot.” 

“I’ll order pizza when we get back, if you want,” Matt offers. 

“Yeah. Yeah, sounds good.” There’s a moment of silence, then Frank says, “I think they’d have liked you.” 

“Yeah?” It shouldn’t make Matt feel as warm as it does. 

“Maybe even more than they’d like me, when I’ve become... This.” 

It’s self-loathing Matt’s never associated with Frank, at least when it comes to his decisions on criminals. It sends a pang through his heart, the mere idea that Frank’s family wouldn’t recognise the man he’s become. He doubts it’s true, though, and he says as much. 

“You don’t talk about them much, but from what you’ve said, I don’t think they could have loved you with anything less than their whole hearts even if they’d tried.” 

He’s pretty sure Frank gives a shaky smile at that, judging by the tone of his voice. “Thanks, Red.” 

“You want to talk about them?” 

“Yeah,” Frank says, sounding surprised by himself, “I do.” 

* * *

Frank talks all night. He only falls silent as Matt feels the warmth of the sun starting to rise. It’s a crisp morning, and Matt’s grateful for his thick jacket. The two of them simply coexist for a moment, until Matt speaks. 

“Would you... Would you describe the sunrise for me?” 

“The sunrise?” 

“I miss it,” Matt says simply. 

“It’s pretty one today,” Frank starts, “Needs to be described with some poetic shit. Golden and red and yellow and orange. They’re all blending. There’s some pink in there too, and blue at the edges where it’s really starting to be light.” 

“It sounds beautiful,” Matt murmurs wistfully. He’s grown to appreciate what he can do, but he still misses colour. At moments like this, he wishes he could see the sky, and the grass, and the colour of Frank’s eyes, instead of red, red, red. 

“C’mon, Matty,” Frank tells him, “Let’s go home.” 

* * *

Once they arrive at the apartment, Matt calls for a pizza. He does so to Frank’s chagrin, but Matt hasn’t eaten since lunchtime yesterday, and Frank in even longer. 

“We can get a proper breakfast food, Matty,” Frank says, “We don’t need a pizza, it’s 8 in the goddamn morning.” 

“I told you I’d order you pizza when we got home,” Matt argues back. 

“Y’see, what I’m getting from this is that you want pizza and I gotta shut my fucking mouth,” Frank teases. 

“I plead the fifth.” 

They both collapse onto the couch, laughing harder than their shitty jokes warrant. The following silence as Matt places his glasses on the table is comfortable, though not long. Frank’s the one who breaks it. 

“‘M sorry I ruined your Christmas.” 

“You didn’t,” Matt tells him earnestly. 

“I did, though. Just... Fucked off outta bed and didn’t tell you jack.” Frank sounds genuinely chagrined. “Fuck, I don’t deserve you.” 

“Don’t say that,” Matt says, voice hardening, “And you didn’t ruin it. Sure, at first, I was... But I get it. It’s not a problem to need time for them.” 

“Shit,” Frank says, “God, I fucking love you.” 

They both freeze. Neither of them have said those words in the months they’ve been together. The thing is... Matt didn’t sense a hint of a lie. Frank means it. 

“I love you too,” Matt chokes out. 

The kiss that follows is hungry and passionate and everything that the two want to tell each other, all at once. Matt’s teeth pull at Frank’s lower lip, and the growl that follows sends shivers down Matt’s spine. They pull away before too long, breathing hard. 

“We should... Rain check?” Matt says. 

Frank laughs. “Rain check. After all, your goddamn pizza’s gonna be here soon.” 

“Hey, I... I got you something,” Matt remembers aloud. 

“Got you something too.” 

“And you managed to hide it? From me?” 

“You’re good at sensing shit, but you’re still blind.” Frank’s voice gives away the smirk that’s painting his features. 

They part to retrieve their gifts. Matt’s honestly a little terrified about how Frank’ll respond, but this is all he could think of. He brings his (apparently neatly wrapped) box out from under the bed and makes his way back to the couch, where Frank is already sat with a box of his own. Frank’s is about the same size, which is impressive, since Matt’s is pretty damn tiny. He sits next to his boyfriend, leaving enough of a gap for them to turn towards each other. There’s a silence, which somehow manages to be simultaneously awkward and comfortable all at once; Matt’s never known anyone who can do that but Frank. 

“I, uh... Shall I go first?” Matt offers. 

He passes the gift to Frank, who tears off the paper in seconds. He seems a little confused as he pulls off the lid of the box. 

“A key?” 

“You’ve been breaking into the apartment for nine months. I figured this way... I guess it’s more symbolic than anything. It was stupid, I don’t... I’ll find something better, I’ll take it back, I’ll...” 

“No, you fucking won’t,” Frank commands, sounding a little choked up, “It’s mine.” 

“Oh,” Matt breathes out, relieved, “Okay.” 

“I, uh... Here. This is for you.” 

Frank practically thrusts the present into Matt’s hands. It takes him so much by surprise that even with his reactions he barely grabs it. As he slides the lid off the box Frank’s ever-steady breath actually catches a little, caught on the inhale. He’s... Holy shit, he’s _nervous_. 

Whatever‘s in the box, it’s metal. Matt touches the object lightly, then pulls it out. It’s cold to the touch, and something drops down behind it as he lifts it – a chain. He runs his fingers over the surface. There’s something raised on the metal, and it takes a second for it to register. When it does, Matt nearly drops what he’s holding in surprise. It’s words. 

**CASTLE  
F D A POS  
123 45 6789  
USMC L  
CATHOLIC**

“Are these... Are these your dog tags?” 

“Yeah. I’m, uh... I’m glad I got a set that’s embossed, not debossed. Easier for you to get the letters, I’d figure. And... I thought... They’re for if someone gets killed in action, right? Identification. Thought it’d let you know that... I wasn’t doing so good when I met you. Now... I still do what I do and I don’t mean to stop anytime soon, but I ain’t planning on dying anywhere but by your side, and preferably peacefully.” 

Matt’s only a little embarrassed to admit that he’s tearing up. “Frank, this is... I don’t know what to say. I... This is amazing.” 

He loops the chain around his neck, internally pleased by how close to his heart the tags are resting. Leaning forward, he catches Frank’s lips with his own. Unlike their earlier kiss, this is soft and gentle. Frank returns it in the same manner; it’s something most people wouldn’t associate with the Punisher. It’s comfort and warmth and home, and if anyone’d told Matt last year that this is where he’d be, he’d have taken them to get checked for head trauma. As it is, though, he revels in it. The romantic side of Frank only ever emerges when they’re alone, and he cherishes every moment of it. 

They separate after what seems like too much time and not enough all at once, and Matt can feel a slightly goofy, sappy smile settle on his face. He’s about to speak when there’s a knock at the door. 

“That’ll be your pizza,” Frank points out unhelpfully, “Which means you can answer the door.” 

Despite pouting about it, Matt goes. By the time he returns with the food, Frank’s grabbed them both beers from the kitchen. 

“Beer? At this time in the morning?” 

“You’re the one who went for pizza instead of pancakes or some shit,” Frank points out. 

“You love me anyway, though,” Matt says. 

“Damn fucking right I do,” Frank agrees. 

Matt’s kind of hoping they can do this again next year.

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, anyone who wants to see my comics blog, it's over on tumblr at [click-grayson](https://click-grayson.tumblr.com/)


End file.
